Page 73 of It's Always Us

I inhale and let it out, resting my head on his shoulder and settling back into real life.

Trying to let it all go for tonight, I relax into Mark and yawn while he tells Grandpa about his surgery and expedited recovery plan.

I listen as he talks about his agent gathering information, but for now, everything is speculation. Any solid interest will depend on his progressover the weeks ahead. I run a hand over my stomach and focus on the warm body next to mine, trying not to think about what it all means.

______

Mark sets his suitcase down in my small room and sits on the foot of my bed. I close the door as he looks around, taking in every square inch. I unzip my tight jeans, and it’s instant relief.

“This is my teenage fantasy come true.” That mischievous grin appears as he watches me peel off my jeans and toss them in the closet.

“What? Watching me struggle with my too-tight pants.” I grab a scrunchy and twist my hair into a low, loose bun.

“You have no idea how many nights I laid in that small, horrible bed above Shane, pondering the risk of sneaking out and crawling in this bed with you. You taking off your pants sweetens the entire vision.”

He stares, taking me in, and I will my face not to flush, surveying my small, safe space—its light gray walls, white duvet, and curtains. An old wooden dresser with a mirror sits along one wall with a nightstand beside my bed. In the corner is my tiny bathroom with a shower.

“It’s pretty much the same. My walls were lavender when I moved in, but Grandpa and I painted them that summer.” I pull my sweatshirt off, leaving on my long T-shirt that’s stretched tight. “It’s a little strange to have you in here.”

He reaches forward and pulls me between his legs, his hands resting on my hips. His forehead presses against my stomach as memories of a younger us flash through my mind.

Mark tugs my wrist, pulling me down, and I straddle his lap. One hand dives underneath my shirt and runs up my spine. I shiver, and a smirk skirts across his lips before he inches me closer, my chest pressing into his.

I let out a long, slow breath. “How’s your shoulder?”

“Not a problem at the moment.” It comes out ragged.

He stills, our lips inches apart, and he studies me, letting me decide. “I think I might actually die of starvation if you keep this charade up much longer.”

“Charade?” I ask with innocence.

His fingers slide down my back, digging into my hip. “Is this how things are now, Lex?”

“I don’t know. You seemed to enjoy torturing me earlier.”

“Torture?” His eyebrows hitch up, but the sexy stare remains. He leans down close to my ear. “Hmmm. So, we’re talking revenge, huh? I don’t know that I can be expected to behave myself when I’m currently reliving every teenage desire.”

I run my hands up his arms, wrapping them around his cut biceps. “Oh, but you’re so much stronger now than you were then.”

“Not when it comes to you.” It sounds like a promise, and I bite my lip, trying to suppress a smile. His thumb runs across my cheek, his eyes suddenly turning serious. “Baby, I’m running very close to my limit, and I can’t be held responsible for what happens when I hit it.”

A shot of adrenaline zips through my body, and my need for him reaches unbearable heights.

I press my forehead to his, squeezing my eyes shut tight. “I could get lost in this with you.” It comes out as a whisper. I could, but I wonder how long it would take until I woke up. The small bump between us deserves more than that. It deserves to come into this world with a strong, stable foundation between us.

His lips brush against my cheek. “I’m all in. There’s no going back. Ever.”

I don’t know a lot at the moment, but I know he means every word. I slide my hands around the back of his neck, holding him close as I run my lips over his jaw to the corner of his mouth. His body tenses, and I know it’s taking every ounce of his strength to hold back. Payback really sucks.

His hands run up my sides, pushing my T-shirt—

“Sandberg!” His hands freeze around my ribs at Grandpa’s loud bellow from the bottom of the stairs. “I don’t care who you are now and how much money you make. She’s still my granddaughter, and this is my house.”

Mark huffs and almost sounds painful. “Yes, sir.” He drops back on the bed, holding his shoulder and running a hand over his face. “I knew he’d bust my balls.”

I lay down beside him, giving us space. We lay there in the quiet, and I stare at the ceiling, floating back down to reality.

I remember all the nights I cried myself to sleep, thinking he’d never be mine again. I can’t ever go back to that. As the blissful fog clears, my mind starts sprinting, heading absolutely nowhere fast.

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